


from a flame

by white_petals



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Angst, Assassin AU, Assassin Jeon Jungkook, Assassin Kim Taehyung | V, Assassins vs. Templars, Childhood Memories, Dark, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Violence, Namjoon is barely mentioned, Repressed Feelings, Romeo and Juliet vibes, Templar Min Yoongi, Templar Park Jimin, but he's so important to Jeongguk even though it's not mentioned here, but sweet too?, dream vs reality, hyyh inspired, i'll probably carry on with this universe in the future, it's just a mix of drafts in my head?, kind of mysterious, not very conclusive, or something of that effect, there are so many things that remain unsaid here, yoonkook
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16203155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_petals/pseuds/white_petals
Summary: Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi.A name he will never allow himself to say out loud, because it would mean something else, then.Everything would burn in flames.[or Assassin's Creed!AU where Jeongguk is an Assassin and decides to save Yoongi, a Templar who used to be his best friend before they got separated as children.]





	1. impulsion

**Author's Note:**

> i've been imagining so many things with this AC/BTS universe lately. this is only going to be a small part of that world i'm creating for myself, i usually don't write a lot so i'll limit myself to a few chapters for now? not really sure how many (probably not more than 4).
> 
> if you don't know anything about AC, you won't miss much: just picture romeo and juliet, two groups who've been enemies since the beginning of time itself, with Assassins on the left and Templars on the right. (ofc it's way more complex than that bUT) it's mostly for the general atmosphere more than for the real details of the AC universe, other than that it's pretty much a simple assassin au.
> 
> for now, a whole lot of metaphors with fire, darkness, music,,, very much inspired from very angsty hyyh notes.

Jeongguk loves the night – has always loved it, how concealed he feels around it, protected in darkness. It doesn’t scare him, adds a sense of secretive embrace around the edges of his face where he can just let go… nobody could see, nobody would know.

There’s noise and silence, lights enhancing shadows and contrasts. It’s everywhere, everywhere; when it falls, Jeongguk becomes the night, mixes up with sunsets on the rooftops and black alleyways.

The light doesn’t scare him either, but he always tries to avoid it – never lets anyone in.

 

Tonight, everything is too bright.

 

Jeongguk has sensed it from the start, before the sun even began to set; tension in the air, skipping heartbeats here and there – missing details, the smallest ones. The way everything just keeps going but the other members of the order seem to act in slow motion. They have a plan, Jeongguk knows that much. They’ve had a plan for months, something he hasn’t been able to participate in yet, but soon enough this small detail, concealed like the night – something that Jeongguk knows better than he knows himself – this detail, he’s sure of it, is loud and as significant as the key of a piano, and it becomes a reason why his heart skips a beat, here and there.

Because Jeongguk knows that the plan is to be put into action tonight, and tonight is way too bright.

The key, it’s right there, but Jeongguk doesn’t know how to play, can’t put his finger on it. It’s a feeling, a perception. He’s used to it because that’s mostly what the night has provided him with: senses, emotions, impulsion. He’s always been lost, too, and that’s not something that he can ignore, not tonight.

So when he runs to the source of the commotion that night, the building on fire doesn’t surprise him. The blazing flames are bright and chaotic, people are running, screaming.

There’s no pain  _yet._

Jeongguk climbs to the top of the opposite building in no time, and it feels like facing the awesome golden orb, staring at a peculiar flaring sunset. But the flames are heavier than the universe, burning like a mad sun, and Jeongguk can only stare at the fire – his heart beating,

he’s waiting for the missing beat. 

 

Taehyung and three other Assassins are on his right. He knows that others are surrounding the area – can only imagine the gravity of the plan with the size of the flames, the people screaming, fleeing.

_Still no pain._

Taehyung gets closer to him, answers his silent question, “we tracked him down.” 

Jeongguk doesn’t need to ask who _him_ is. He knows that he was their main target for years, not to say ages.

“We?” his voice barely a whisper, “they let you in on this?” 

Taehyung turns to him – Jeongguk doesn’t look back, still staring at the bright, blazing night in front of him, counts his heartbeats, but he can almost picture the look that the older is giving him;  _you’re still young, are you surprised?_

But that’s not what he hears when Taehyung speaks again. “I regret it.”

Silence in flames and incense, then Jeongguk stares back at him, lets him speak because he knows there’s more to it, knows that it’s still not the right key.

“We had to make a decision. We’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this for years…” Taehyung stops for a few seconds.

_Still beating._

“It’s all Templars in there, right?” Jeongguk asks, because the doubt in Taehyung’s voice suddenly becomes too much.

The older quickly nods, “of course, but—”. Then he looks at Jeongguk again, “there are only Templars, we checked—been planning this for months, that’s all there could be—”

“Hyung,” an urge in his voice.

“Some of them are innocent.”

Jeongguk puts his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, shakes him lightly. “It’s not the first time things like this happen,” he says as he desperately tries to shake off the bad feeling, the brightness of the flames, the vulnerability that he still feels and how wrong these words sound.

The older doesn’t respond. They stay silent for a while. Jeongguk is still waiting. 

He hears the other Assassins talking quietly, tries not to pay any attention to it. Tries to ignore the war that’s coming, again and again.

 

Then,

“I think one of them is my age,” Taehyung’s voice is small. “He’s my age and he’s trapped in the fire.”

Jeongguk swallows, tightens his grip on his shoulder, trying to keep himself grounded at the same time. “We’ve got to remember his name.”

He sighs because it’s not the first time they had come to this. When some of their plans were flawed or had gone wrong, when sacrificing innocent lives had somehow become a strategic necessity in the order, going against the creed –  Taehyung and Jeongguk had always tried to pay tribute to the victims by saying their names out loud, imprinting it somewhere in the world for people to hear, to remember.

“Park Jimin,” Taehyung whispers, but it’s firm and determined.

“Park Jimin,” Jeongguk repeats after him. 

_Bam. Bam._

“Wait.”

“Mmh?”

“Park Jimin?” 

Taehyung gives him a weird look, “that’s what I said. Park Jimin.”

“I know that name—do I know that name?” 

“Do you?”

“I don’t know, I think I do?”

_Still not beating fast enough._

Maybe it’s something they’re bound to do unconsciously; keeping tracks of their opposite, Templars around their age – a direct threat, a reminder that they’re all still human.

So Jeongguk says it again. Park Jimin.

_Ba—_

“—No.”

That’s when his heart finally skips the beat, when fear spreads like fire, working him up to a state of utter petrification. 

Taehyung is looking at him and doesn’t understand where the panic in his eyes comes from. 

But how could he?

 

Jeongguk knows this name. Has tried to block it out. Tried to repress it. Because with that name comes the unavoidability of what comes with it – _who_ comes with it – and it’s undeniable. Jeongguk knows enough – had been keeping tracks long enough to know that both were inseparable. Had stopped after it was too late to preserve himself, had convinced himself that he had let go. But in the end he had just run away without looking back; 

and now he was staring right back at it in red and orange pleas for mercy and tainted hope, that _something_ left of innocence. Struggle. Guilt. Humanity. Everything in between.

  

One light in black, in the night.

 

So Jeongguk presses down the key and it’s in A minor. Before he knows it he’s running and leaving a confused Taehyung behind, already jumping from rooftop to rooftop getting alarmingly close to the building on fire.

He would be worried for himself if it weren’t for that name, for the fact that it could only mean one thing. 

If Park Jimin were in there, then so was  _Min Yoongi._  

 

One window on his right, Jeongguk locates it too fast, like the beating of his heart – in one of these heartbeats he’s gone and it’s like plunging into daylight. There is so much smoke and the fire is already too strong but Jeongguk doesn’t even hesitate when he brings his hood up to his face and keeps on going further into the building. Everything is yellow noise and lack of oxygen – an explosion; his mind goes blank. It takes him one minute to get back on his feet and it’s too long, way too long. 

_Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi._

A name he will never allow himself to say out loud, because it would mean something else, then.

Everything would burn in flames.

And that’s not why Jeongguk is still running forward.

 

Several corpses that Jeongguk tries to ignore, burning skin, ashes, too much wood – too much of a miracle and Jeongguk refuses to believe it yet. Because there is a body on the floor and it’s alive and young and coughing, stuck under a shelf that fell with the force of a previous blow.

The person raises their head when they hear Jeongguk coughing, too – they both freeze.

Memories rush in as he vaguely recognises the face, and it hurts _hurts hurts_ as Jeongguk stares right back at Park Jimin. 

“S-Stay back—” 

Jimin’s voice is weak and strong at the same time, and for an instant Jeongguk doesn’t understand – forgot about his hood, his order, Assassins and Templars. 

“Don’t hurt—” coughing again.

And that’s when Jeongguk’s mind clicks. He follows Park Jimin’s gaze.

Someone else is in the room, as the flames are getting closer. Everything in Jeongguk snaps with such a force that he can barely process how he’s still standing. 

“Stay a-away!”

But Jeongguk doesn’t listen, just walks towards the body in slow motion and way too fast.

 

_Min Yoongi._

Another explosion somewhere in the building. One tear and fighting breath through his throat and Jeongguk keeps his eyes open and open. Yoongi is unconscious and Jeongguk is too scared to check his pulse, too scared to come to the realisation that this is real and this is Yoongi and it’s there, all there, pain and pain again.

Suddenly he turns back, Park Jimin has stopped coughing and he’s just staring; there’s fear in him too, as well as hate and puzzlement. Both are right under the spotlight as everything around them keeps burning up – but so much contrast remains there; face of the young Assassin hidden behind the shadow of his hood, control in the darkened figure of the young Templar. Jeongguk gets back up, grits his teeth, goes to him; tries not to think of all the smoke, all the fire around them. Jimin’s ready to protest but doesn’t when he sees that Jeongguk takes hold of the shelf and pushes as hard as he can, giving him enough time to free his leg. 

“Help me,” Jeongguk says.

Jimin doesn’t question it, stops trying to figure it out. He’s limping, but with two sets of arms and half functioning lungs, they both carry Yoongi’s body out of the room and out of the fire.

 

Jeongguk is gone before anyone can notice. 

Jimin just stares at the night, hardly breathing, holding on to Yoongi’s unconscious form in the darkness of a secluded alley.

He wonders since when humanity has been questioned like this, wonders how he even doubted the Assassin for one second. He realises that in a life like this, danger is always around the corner, and isn’t it mortifying to always find yourself on the edge? To forget about life and focus on death – has it always been there for them? And how is it different now? Why should it be different, to save someone’s life?

 

He wonders if it should be that hard to believe, having an Assassin risking his life to save a Templar.

 

 


	2. hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You really don’t know? There’s that one guy who always climbs up here to hear you play.”
> 
> “What—you’re serious?”
> 
> “I thought you knew,” another beat. “I thought that’s why you kept playing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don’t know anything about AC, you only need to know one definition for this chapter: a ‘fragment of eden’ – known as ‘piece of eden’, is an artefact that can control humanity and that can be used as a powerful weapon.  
> many of these are present everywhere on earth, and the goal of Assassins and Templars is to find these pieces of eden and collect them before the other order does.  
> in short, pieces of eden are the reason why Assassins and Templars are fighting each other all the time lol; again, it’s more complex than that, but you don’t need details to understand this fic. 
> 
> [here, i’m choosing to call these artefacts ‘fragments’ instead of ‘pieces’ because i think it fits my writing style more,,, and i’m a sucker for meta-textual references. that’s literally the only reason.]

One day, Yoongi had showed up and his hair had been green; nine year old Jeongguk had laughed, then, he had laughed so much.

 

Had called him _Mint Yoongi_.

 

 

 

Then strong hands had grabbed him, seized him; taken him away from Yoongi before he had got the chance to ask why, before any of them had got the chance to understand what was happening. “He’s not trustworthy,” Jeongguk’s guardian had said, “none of them are.” Jeongguk had wanted to ask who they were referring to, but it’d been too late and he’d never spent time with Yoongi again.

“He’ll hurt you every chance he gets,” is what Yoongi’s father had told him. “That’s why he abandoned you. That’s what Assassins do.” Yoongi had cried for hours, denying everything; denying the lie. But after that, things had changed; Jeongguk had not come back, and Yoongi had started to believe that he never would.

 

But there are some melodies that will forever remain imprinted. And it goes for them both, because it’s rooted in that connection that’s been evolving through time and the infinite part of space; nothing about this is material, it moves with the soul, the heart – Jeongguk doesn’t know the difference, not yet.

It moved with music, through music; in all these moments when Jeongguk would sneak into forbidden grounds, trying to figure it out during his training as an Assassin. There had been many dark corridors, mostly in his mind (and it was still there). Hours of loneliness, even of self-erasure, trying to cope. Trying to make it okay to need your best friend again. So Jeongguk would often sneak off to find Mint Yoongi behind the Assassins’ back. He would follow the night, seek familiarity – something he couldn’t feel here as he’d already been disobeying the creed by doing just that – solely relying on instinct. But in darkness, in erasure… there would be no contact. Loneliness would strike him more with confusion; because all there was in the room was a young boy with green hair turning silver turning blond turning black through the years, playing the piano with broken fingers and broken tunes, heartbeats. And how was it okay to get away from that?

 

Once, when they had still been friends, Yoongi had played something new. Jeongguk had looked up, surprised (just slightly):

 

_“Why is it so sad—what you’re playing…?”_

_“Because you are.”_

 

And every time Jeongguk had hidden on the roof next to Yoongi’s window to hear him play, he had felt that again, the reflection of himself and what they had been – what they were – in his music.

It moves with sound; the intense echo of silent pleas bouncing from insides to insides. What is unsaid is seen, and heard when it becomes too much, with sighs, struggling breaths, sad echoes of black sobs in isolated corners and muffled moans at night as they grow up.

There’s a softness in the way Yoongi presses down the keys; something deep, meaningful and full of life – life that used to be there, apparent, but which disappeared little by little from his figure and his sighs. Piano had been something casual at first, something for Yoongi to practice when he was bored, never really learning anything, mostly coming up with his own melodies, unprecise, messing up with theory. Yoongi tries to ignore the fact that piano became important to fill the void that Jeongguk’s erasure had created – and isn’t it cruelly ironic how this lack, this hole is full in his chest, an imprinted absence more present than what’s there and what has been… 

He’d kept practicing. The passion that had been in his features, the passion that Jeongguk had managed to bring up – to share – moved to his touch, the way he played under the dim light. Never too loud.

It was better to keep it a secret.

 

After a while, something else changed.

Yoongi hadn’t been alone; Jeongguk had heard something bright and clear under the moonlight – too bright. The sound of laughter, mixed with the wrong key. Yoongi hadn’t been alone, there had been someone else at his side, and the day after that, and again _again again_.

Park Jimin, he had eventually found out.

Despite himself, despite the hurt, he would still come back to the window, but would leave as soon as he would hear voices.

 

*

 

“Yoongi-hyung, you’ve got an admirer. But I’m okay with it.”

“What?”

“Is it for him that you play?”

A beat.

“Jimin, I have no idea what you’re saying right now." 

“You really don’t know? There’s that one guy who always climbs up here to hear you play.”

“What—you’re serious?”

“I thought you knew,” another beat. “I thought that’s why you kept playing.”

 

*

 

And the music stopped.

 

*

 

Now Jeongguk is twenty years old and the fire has died down, only just; but his fingers still burn and his insides are alight.

And he’s crying crying crying.

 

 

_But at least Yoongi is alive._

 

 

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Taehyung asks.

They still smell of the fire. Everything is too soon. But too late.

Jeongguk doesn’t reply, only sobs even harder.

 

*

 

Yoongi is laying down on a mattress with white sheets and white lies – something he’s been sleeping on for years.

Jimin is seating on the floor on his right, looking at him without seeing him.

“Someone came and helped us get out of that mess.”

Dawn is upon them, faded yellow and orange clouds at the window. Yoongi feels disoriented; his head is the mess, he thinks. Doesn’t say it out loud.

“No missing leg, no missing foot—could’ve been worse,” his tone is sarcastic.

The truth is he still doesn’t know what he wants, can’t figure out what it is that he was looking for. The fire had started and Yoongi had thought finally, _finally_ some kind of rebellion to spark things off, to go somewhere else.

But here he was again on that bloody mattress. “These bloody Assassins,” he says; then stops, because he doesn’t want to think about the casualties yet, doesn’t want a rough number, just wants to get an _out_.

“I—yeah.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows, could feel Jimin’s hesitation from one hundred feet. And of course Jimin notices that, so he sighs and speaks again.

“’Know any Templar who wears Assassin robes?”

Yoongi chuckles, “Assassins don’t wear _robes_ , they wea—”

“Hyung, I’m trying to tell you something here.”

The elder tries to sit down on the mattress, but his limbs are weak and he only manages to put himself in a semi-seated position. “Go on.”

“I think the person who saved us was an Assassin.”

Without any hesitation, “that’s impossible.” 

“I am _sure_ he was an Assassin.”

“Impossible,” Yoongi says again, “they’re the ones who started the fire.”

“How could I make this up?”

“I don’t know, Jimin!” there’s anger, uncontrolled anger, frustration.

 

_Hope._

_Repressed._

Softer, “I don’t know. It’s impossible.”

 

Just like that Yoongi keeps lying to himself, because why should it be impossible to be human and save someone else?

 

*

 

Months go by. Phantasms get deeper, last longer. Jeongguk tries to disappear in dreams and the night haunts Yoongi.

  

Sometimes, Jeongguk loses himself in silence, runs as fast as he can to breathe and breathe; loses himself in someone else’s touch – numb denial, semblance of comfort, premature ends. And it’s enough for a while, but then the way Taehyung breathes becomes nothing but noise, and Jeongguk has to stop and get away, _I’m sorry—I’m sorry I can’t._ and _it’s okay, we don’t have to keep doing this, Kook, it’s okay._ and _I’m trying_ and  _you don’t have to we don’t have to it’s fine._

_it’s not._

 

*

 

Jeongguk feels the blood in his mouth from the cut in his lip before he feels the stinging pain. He mentally slaps himself for having beaten his lip so tight, but regains his composure fast and strikes back, eventually knocking over his opponent with one last hit on her wounded shoulder. He spits out some blood on the floor before running across the huge corridor leading to the main hall at the heart of the battle.

He spots Taehyung fighting two Templars there – before he can even move forward to help, Namjoon grabs him by the wrist, “upstairs! _Now!”_

He doesn’t ask and just starts running again – that’s what he does best. Running away, running forward… what’s the difference? At this very moment everything is irrelevant, and the only thing that matters is the fragment of Eden, which is apparently upstairs and, judging by Namjoon’s urgent tone, in the wrong hands. It doesn’t take him more than a minute to climb up the stairs, the Templars that he crosses on his way don’t bring much resistance, or maybe he’s just too fast for them, running along the wind in dimmed hallways and narrow secrets. Action, adrenaline; impulse. It ravishes him, scares him because he’s never killed anyone yet. Just let people suffer on the ground. Sometimes he feels weak because of it, but it also keeps him on the line; Namjoon had never said anything – had just nodded when they’d been on a mission together and Jeongguk hadn’t been able to finish it.

For some reason he knows he’s not finishing this one either.

The library is on the last floor. Jeongguk keeps running from shelf to shelf, following the source of the battle.

Without warning he sees him. Yoongi is running in front of him, trying to get away from the fight, and that’s when Jeongguk sees it: he’s holding the fragment of Eden in his hand.

Maybe it’s because he’s so used to running away, to blocking feelings out – without even processing it, when he could do anything, _anything_ , from throwing darts to smoke bombs, just reaching out for his gun and cornering his target, Jeongguk inexplicably stops instead, reaches out for a book on the closest shelf,

and throws it at Yoongi. 

_Because why the hell not at this point,_ he thinks (if he ever started thinking in the first place).

Maybe it’s because they’re both completely insane. Or maybe it’s just because it was, still, a very heavy book. But instead of ignoring it and running towards the escape point, Yoongi stops on his tracks, swears under his breath and turns to Jeongguk.

At this point, Jeongguk isn’t sure what happens – doesn’t know if he just blacks out from the intensity of who-used-to-be-his-best-friend-but-isn’t-anymore’s gaze, doesn’t know if it’s just another coping mechanism, if his brain is too used to repress anything that has to do with him. But before he knows it, another Templar is attacking him and has him cornered against a shelf held at gunpoint, Jeongguk’s blade against his neck – he must have stared at Yoongi for too long, must have been careless again. So much for trying to forget.

So much for _feeling_ too much.

When he can’t run away, he blocks it out. 

That’s why he doesn’t hear Yoongi’s hiss of protest. Doesn’t hear Yoongi’s command. Doesn’t realise exactly when the Templar lowers his gun and walks out of the room.

He just sees Yoongi, then, right in front of him, holding a gun and the fragment of Eden, but none of them move, and Jeongguk feels like he’s just so _pathetic_ and breathing frantically and why, _why_ did he have to throw a book to Yoongi’s face?

Then, 

“do I owe you anything?”

and it’s so low, so tight, so weak – Jeongguk cannot breathe.

“Did I ever owe you anything, _Jeon_?” Yoongi whispers again.

It cuts deep into everything, right through everything. Jeongguk can do nothing but stare back; they both know, both think of the fire and the implications of it. They both allow themselves to hope.

One second later Yoongi is gone with the storm.

 

*

 

_“Shoot him and I shoot you first.”_

  

Yoongi knows – knows it was a mistake that was going to cost him so much.

 

*

 

“He’s a threat,” his father tells him.

Yoongi swallows until there’s no more saliva to ingest, then walks up to the table and pours himself a glass of whiskey. But it’s such a mistake, because now all he wants to do is throw it away and smash it on the ground.

 

A piece of paper on his desk next to his guns, a magazine and dozens of silver bullets – it makes Yoongi laugh, how all of this is a hunt, trying to put down the howling monster under the moonlight – he thinks of the fire again, of his options; _wonders if there’s a point to survival._

A piece of paper on his desk next to death:

 

_— track Jeon Jeongguk._

  

A lump in his throat, then the glass is empty.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk i guess i’m just incredibly inspired by that burning piano in hyyh, and that piano in the actual AC Syndicate game? (not an important information if you don’t play the game, but for those who know… have you ever seen that guy playing that piano while you were wandering around in Buckingham Palace? because i always come back to it and get so freaking inspired).


	3. lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts fading away, Yoongi pushes one key, lets it resonate around Jeongguk’s heart.
> 
> “I—don’t want it to end,” Jeongguk says.

“Do you still have nightmares?” Namjoon had asked him one day.

  
*

 

It goes on for a while, and Jeongguk dismisses it, thinks he’s just becoming paranoid. But he knows that it’s all in due time. That he’s become a prey ever since Yoongi let him go that one time. He knows he’s being followed. He doesn’t know if it’s a game; has no way of finding out if whatever this is has been going on ever since the Templars took hold of the fragment of Eden, or ever since the fire… because when did the fire even start?

  

When did it all start?

It could be a game, a sudden acceleration of coincidences; could be fate, could be the end of a burning candle.

But the cards are drawn either way.

Jeongguk waits, pretends he doesn’t see random Templars staying very still on his path in plain sight – daylight. He stays by Taehyung’s side, because the latter has noticed it too.

  

*

  

Nobody ever finds him in the dark, 

but […]

 

*

  

“I  _always_ have nightmares,” Jeongguk had replied.

  

*

 

Suffocating rumours, coughs and clinks of glass between fancy gloves and overpriced liquor. Jeongguk wants – he doesn’t know – needs, to get out of here.

The rain, it pours; blurry lights on the windows. He gently makes his way out of the crowd, away from the white noise of the reception, attracted by what is away from his reach. He doesn’t run. Doesn’t speak. Keeps his head down.

Once he’s out, the rain is heavy. It takes him an instant to put on his hood, enjoying the way the water pours down his hair, along his jaw. Clattering silence… he lets himself breathe out.

For the flicker of a moment, he wonders—hesitates… whether to let tears escape, or not. And he doesn’t really grasp why; doesn’t let them fall. Stays in the dark.

 

With rain comes music. At first, Jeongguk thinks he’s imagining it. Maybe one and the other are the same. Clatter of raindrops and clatter of keys. Harmony of dissonances. His breath caught in his throat, he turns towards the mansion, raises his head – his expression still hidden behind the blackness of his large hood. But in blackness there is nostalgia, too; deep down Jeongguk knows – has known from the start of an ever – that he wouldn’t escape it.

 

So he follows. Follows the clear, dark, desperate sounds of the piano. Tries to keep his mind focused on the present moment as he climbs up the wall – but he can see where this leads. _Hopes_ that it leads somewhere in the right key.

The hood falls back on his shoulders; he doesn’t even think of putting it on again.

He’s back inside, a few floors above the white noise of the party that doesn’t exist in his perception anymore. The music is slow, in tune with his steps. There’s no rush. The corridor is dark; the door on the other end, where the music comes from, is left ajar.

He knows this piece.

There’s a part of him that also wonders if it’s a trap. But the other part, deep within himself – the one that relies on instinct and on impulse, the perfect paradox of what brings him closer and farther away from his identity as an Assassin – wants it to be a trap, wants to give in and see the bars instead of curling up on himself in indefinite limitation.

Jeongguk walks into the room. Almost unnoticed. But he knows, from the way Yoongi’s back tenses a little, that the latter is aware of his presence even though he cannot see him. In contrast, his music remains the same, soft, a slow dance coming from the piano against the wall near an opened window. Jeongguk wonders if Yoongi would have stopped playing if he’d come from that window; wonders if Yoongi would’ve looked at him by now.

But he keeps playing with his back facing him, and Jeongguk is staying still, and it’s like nothing has really changed.

 

The lullaby is coming to an end,

“don’t stop playing.”

Jeongguk’s voice is surprisingly stable and strong enough to make it out as an order more than the original plea that was intended. He bites his lip at that, mentally curses himself.

It starts fading away, Yoongi pushes one key, lets it resonate around Jeongguk’s heart.

“I—don’t want it to end,” Jeongguk says.

“I can play it agai—”

Yoongi stops, Jeongguk’s breathing getting louder in his ears now that the music is gone. It betrays him, and Jeongguk knows it, but he cannot bring himself to control it.

Yoongi still faces the instrument, eyes on his fingers. Jeongguk’s gaze, on the contrary, could pierce through Yoongi like a knife. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

“I can play it again,” Yoongi repeats.

And Jeongguk notices the way his face turns slightly towards him. Just for a second. But enough for the missing beat of his heart, for the hope and the rush of blood to his head. Enough so that he doesn’t realise that Yoongi has started playing again.

Everything pours in his heart and in his soul, becoming too overwhelming, barely able to stand on his feet. A few unshed tears appear on the brink of his eyes, but Jeongguk still believes them to be coming from the rain instead.

 

There’s something unpredictable about the way he moves, reaches up to Yoongi from behind; abruptly places one hand on top of Yoongi’s with such intensity that both of them crush against the keys of the piano, creating a cluster of perceptible emotions. Jeongguk doesn’t have time to think _it’s out in the open_. He firmly tightens his grip on Yoongi’s hand, realises in one corner of his mind that Yoongi’s other hand creates another cluster, can’t figure out if the pressure is expanded or released. He brings his other fingers against Yoongi’s neck, leans in, almost hesitates.

Jeongguk kisses Yoongi. 

His breathing is erratic, Yoongi’s heart tugs at that realisation; his hand is still trapped by Jeongguk’s but he moves against him, tilts his head and deepens the kiss. A few notes ring again in rhythm with their movements as they kiss.

Suddenly Jeongguk draws back as quickly as he’d leaned in, starts panicking, becomes aware of the line that he’s just crossed. Yoongi is staring at him, he stares back; his hand still holding Yoongi’s hand, still holding Yoongi’s neck.

“Yoongi?” he whispers. 

_Yoongi._

Jeongguk’s eyes grow wide. That name sounds too real, hurts. He jerks away from Yoongi who stands up too fast, suddenly missing Jeongguk’s warmth. The bench he was sitting on falls on the side.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk says.

“I’m not,” Yoongi replies.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongguk repeats.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Jeongguk, you’re crying.”

Yoongi’s voice breaks at that. Breaks at the tears. Breaks at the taste of Jeongguk’s name in his mouth.

“Oh.”  _Oh no_ , “it’s just the rain.”

Jeongguk frantically tries to wipe the drops on his face away. He fails. And he fails again; his mouth is just a thin line, and Yoongi stares, and again, and for as long as he possibly can.

 

*

 

At night, Jeongguk’s eyes are wide open like the stars. In secrets and soft songs, everything happens in dreams, behind eyelids and doors, locked.

Sighs are intimate. Words are muffled. Quiet. Dark shadows, but his eyes shine like the stars and his mouth hangs open, moans escape and hands grip thighs and sheets to fill the absence, feel a presence.

It’s a dark, dark and loud secret.

And Jeongguk thinks that he must be so in love… to feel so warm, broken apart, coming apart, gripping tighter, lower, until a whine comes out, shaky breath and guilty lips, fingers and sweat.

When he comes undone he does not cry but laughs and shakes and collapses back on the bed, breathing hard, wishing he’d been louder, faster. Everything is wet and blurry and glassy and Jeongguk is in love.

  

*

  

There had been a note,

_did you think about me?_  

Jeongguk had looked up, had scanned the room,

had mouthed _I always do_ as soon as Yoongi’s eyes had been on him.

  

*

 

[…]

 

Jeongguk screams among smoke and flames, _you owe me, you do owe me!_ Pushes his body against Yoongi’s and holds onto him until it hurts them both. He refuses to understand, holds him against a wall in a cluster of despair – too much smoke and Yoongi is coughing too much – envelops him with his cape and body. But for now there’s only one way out that he can see and it sickens him, because it’s an _out_ and it’s not an _into_.

“Why did you do this?” and he’s crying, “why didn’t you say anything?”

 

*

  

After that the nightmares get realer, like crimson pieces of discordances already present in reality. Jeongguk is afraid to find out that both are real. He dreams of the fires and those dreams always end the same, differently.

There’s always smoke and blood. When it’s not Yoongi’s it’s his. When it’s not Yoongi’s it’s also too late.

Sometimes he wonders if Yoongi has been having the dreams too, or if he only lived in the constant, depressing nightmare of suicidal thoughts and memories. But then Jeongguk remembers that these thoughts have always been real for Yoongi, that this hasn't been his first attempt and that this won't be his last.

 

*

  

Jimin had told him to stay away, “they’re all looking for you.”

Obviously Jeongguk had not listened, “they’ve always been looking for me.”

“His father knows he’s saved your life. He thinks you’re a threat.”

Jeongguk snorts loudly – because irony is like this. Trying to save someone who doesn’t really want to be saved, and being hunted down for it; “he thinks I’m an Assassin,” he eventually replies.

“Which you are.”

“But there’s _more_ to it,” and there’s despair in Jeongguk’s voice, almost imperceptible but silent enough;

  

something to hold onto, Jimin thinks.

  

*

  

– no matter how this ends, it will always remain the same. It’s a piece of art, music in thoughts and keyboards at night. Sometimes the piano burns, sometimes it’s skin against skin.

People find out or they don’t; Jeongguk and Yoongi stay true to themselves. Yoongi dyes his hair back to minty-green; there’s hope that never fades away.

There’re always fires and fires. The heart bleeds.

One time, Jeongguk learns how to play, and they kiss again in front of the piano.

The end doesn’t matter, nor does the start; Jeongguk always wakes up, he always hides.

 

 

But Jeongguk always comes back for Yoongi.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the whole idea of this fic came from the piano scene and the fire scene of chapter 1, explaining the regular mentions of both... and explaining why this chapter is maybe even shorter than the others? i didn't have enough inspiration to focus on anything else, i guess;
> 
> there are so many things that are left unsaid in this whole universe i have pictured, and i think it's best for me to stop there and carry on in separate os if i ever want to pick this up again? so,,, stay tuned if this mayhaps caught your attention and keep an eye on my future separate updates :)


End file.
